“I only—”
“It is not Pheresa you think about, but rather yourself.”
“Nay!” Dain said angrily.
Gavril’s eyes flashed. “You want time at Thirst to foment more unrest among the divisionists. You want to busy yourself raising an army among men inclined to forget they are loyal Mandrians first. You—” “Have done,” Dain snapped. “Let it be Thirst or any other hold in the land. I care not. Only deliver the lady to a place of comfort. She suffers, and I seek only to alleviate that.”
Gavril’s eyes grew hot and jealous. He glared at Dain. “You would do well to remember that Pheresa’s welfare is my responsibility. Not yours. She is under excellent care. The physicians who attend her have assured me not an hour past that she remains strong.”
“Her servant woman says otherwise.”
“Morde!” Gavril said as though driven to the limits of his patience. “What care I for the opinion of an ignorant servant? Shall I listen to her instead of learned men?”